apose an enlightened self-restraint on all your culties; and if you do not do so, you betray e great cause of freedom which Providence has trusted to your care.

And I ask-Are your schools, your literature, our daily maxims and pursuits, and the spirit hich animates the masses of your people, eadily, systematically, and successfully directed wards the attainment of these high and honour›le objects? are they adequate to the formation a public opinion under which a virtuous and lightened mind may live in peace, and rejoice, d with which it can cordially co-operate? When I converse with your wisest citizens many f them concede that such should be the objects your institutions, manners, and pursuits; and ey labour to reach them; but they often lament e vast interval which lies between these great onceptions and their accomplishment. The lightened philanthropists of this country desire see commenced in earnest a system of training nd instruction which shall be really capable of reparing the young republican for the discharge the highest duties which a rational being can e called on to execute, in a manner and in a pirit becoming their grandeur, dignity, and utility; at they experience extraordinary difficulties, ising from the ignorance and the power of the eople, in realising their aspirations. Many ho now hear me, and who participate in these esires, will confirm what I say. I was invited come to this country by some philanthropists, ho believed that this philosophy would aid your eople, in discovering at once, their own need of etter instruction and the means of obtaining it. hrenology lays open, even to the most ordinary ind, an intelligible view of the human faculties; carries home a striking conviction of the indisensable necessity of education to their improveent and direction, and presents tangible princiles for administering this instruction. I have ng been an admirer of your institutions, and an Ivocate of man's capability of raising his moral, ligious, and intellectual powers to supremacy ver his animal propensities; and I obeyed the all which was sent to me. Far from disapoving of your institutions, I admire them, and ave confidence in them; but it is my duty to press my conviction, that your people need a stly improved education to render them equal to e faithful and successful discharge of the imortant duties committed to them by the instituons of the states and of the federal government, d to form a public opinion adequate to the due erformance of the high duties assigned to this

ower.

in which errors are detected, becomes, by the unanimous verdict of your community, mere waste paper in the hands of those who have produced it, and that this operates as a most efficacious check against corruption.

You leave reason and scripture. science and theo-
logical doctrines, to adjust their several claims to
acceptance, and to work out a harmony among
themselves. Though your wide extended country
be overrun by contending sects, still fear not for
religion. If Austria boast of almost unanimity The attention of the Christian world has lately
in her faith, it is not because she has found infal- been called to a singular fact, which is instructive,
lible truth, but because she has extinguished in and I think encouraging to you; It is this-that
her people the desire and the capacity of inde- Protestantism has made little progress in extend-
pendent thinking on religious doctrines. Your ing itself in Europe, since the end of the thirty
numerous sects prove to my mind one great truth, years' war, and that the expansive power,
that Christianity is not yet fully understood; that which we believe all truth to possess, has not
in past ages, the Scriptures have been interpreted, been manifested by it since that epoch. "It is
too often without knowledge of the philosophy truly remarkable," says a recent critic, "that
of mind, and without regard to the dictates of neither the moral revolution of the eighteenth
reason and of science. In Britain many persons century, nor the moral counter-revolution of the
suffer under feelings of insecurity about religion. nineteenth, should, in any perceptible degree,
They seem to regard it as a pyramid resting on have added to the domain of Protestantism.
its apex; bishops and archbishops may be pic- During the former period, whatever was lost to
tured on one side; rectors and endowed clergy Catholicism was lost also to Christianity; during
on another; the lords and commons on a third; the latter, whatever was regained by Christianity
and many excellent laymen on the fourth; all in Catholic countries was regained also by Catho-
straining themselves to preserve it erect, each, licism." One cause of this phenomenon appears
apparently, believing that if he were to withdraw to me to be, that the Protestant Kingdoms of Eu-
his support, it would fall and break into a thou- rope, in general, have imitated the Roman Catho-
sand fragments. Professor Powell, in the work lic so closely, that they have in many respects
already quoted, ably describes the mental condi-instituted Popish churches under a different name.
tion of these apprehensive Christians. "Adopt- The Reformation proclaimed freedom of religious
ing their creed," says he, "blindly from educa- opinion; but the Protestant monarchies enacted
tion, custom, or party, too many hold their creeds and endowed churches to maintain them.
religion only by a most loose and uncertain They stifled opinion, and bound up the human
tenure, and are lamentably confused in their no- mind in the fetters of authority;—and how could
tions of its nature. Hence they dread a formi- Protestantism, in other words, religious freedom,
dable shock to Christianity in every physical prosper or expand itself in such circumst nees?
discovery; and in the obscurity which surrounds You, almost alone, have done justice to Protes-
them, imagine danger to the truth in every expo- tantism; you have given it a fair field; and if,
sure of error. Insensible to the real strength of in your country, Popery should not ultimately
their position, they live in groundless alarm for its vield to it. Popery must contain the greater ex-
security; and, accustomed to cher sh faith in igno- tent of truth.
rance, they apprehend in every advance of know-
ledge, the approach of the enemy of their salva-
tion." But when we discover by means of
Phrenology, that religious feelings spring from
the innate faculties of Veneration, Hope, and
Wonder, we perceive that religion can never be
shaken. The churches, creeds, emblems, and
ceremonies, which many individuals mistake for
relig on, are really its effects. They are the
outward symbols by which the innate religious
sentiments manifest their desires, and seek for
gratification. They are no more the causes of
religion, than clarionets and violins are the causes
of that love of melody which exists in the hu-
man mind, and which prompts the intellect to
produce them for its gratification. I request of
you, then, clearly to distinguish between the sen-
timent of religion-which is inherent in the hu-
man mind;—and its outward symbols-which
may assume various forms at different times and
in different countries, yet religion itself be not for
one moment in danger. The founders of your
institutions have acted on this view; and in your
country they have placed the pyramid of religion
at once on its basis. Here, it is seen standing
in all its native solidity, simplicity, and beauty,
without needing the aid of human power to pre-
serve it in its place.

In the preceding lectures I have already ex-
ained my views of education, and left them to
our judgment. I am far from pressing them on
our attention as infallible; I only submit them
all humility to your consideration; prove
try) all things, and hold fast that which is
d." If you know a sounder and more prac-
al philosophy of mind than that which I have
pounded, adopt it, and carry its principles into
artice. All that I mean to maintain, without
hit and qualification, is, that, in the United
ates, the moral and intellectual condition of the
ople must be raised far above its present stand-servation of the purity of the Bible to the moral
1, or your institutions will perish. If you agree
th me in regard to the end, you are the proper
lges of the means.

You are engaged in trying many momentous periments in regard to the nature and capabies of man; and you are now also in the art of olving the true nature and power of Christianity.

In the same spirit, you have trusted the pre

In attending the places of religious worship of several of your sects, I have received a profound impression of the vivacity of the religious senti ments among you. I therefore, consider religion in this country as in the most prosperous condition. Honest and earnest zeal for the glory of God and the welfare of human souls. evinces itself in innumerable forms: It is true that I perceive a great diversity of doctrines; but this fact leads me simply to the conclusion that much vet remains to be done before the true interpretation of Scripture shall be completed; and that many improvements remain to be introduced into Christian theology, before it shall stand side by side with reason and science, and exhibit all the symmetry and beauty of a harmonious compertment in the great temple of universal truth. Fr from regarding the diversity of your sects as an evil. I view it as an unspeakable advantage. The existence of wide diversity of the opinions of Christian sects is to me irrefragable evidence that error is not yet fully expurgated from popular Christianity.

How, then, is the religion of Jesus to be purified? Not by adopting one form of its corruption and declaring it, by statute, to be true. This has been tried, and has failed. Not by the recondite studies and commentaties of cloistered monks, or state-endowed and state-chained divines: for what human research and learning and religious principles, and the interest, of your could accomplish has been achieved by them printers and publishers. You have conferred no already. The doctrines. generally known under patent monopolies on in lividuals, and established the name of Puseyism. afford a specimen of the no boards, with well paid secretaries, to superin-improvements in Christianity which learned tend the printing of the Scriptures; yet in your priests, even in the nineteenth century, propose country the text is as pure as it is in Britain. when left to follow the dictates of their own You have learned by experience that an edition judgment. Christian theology is not destined to

advance by such aids as these. The conflicts of your sects will do more for its improvement than has been accomplished by all the commentators who have laboured in the field since the reformation

One palpable advantage of a number of religious sects, all equal in the eye of the law, is, that their clergy discuss each other's interpretations of Scripture and the doctrines founded on them, with a degree of fearlessness, energy, and effect, which rarely characterises the efforts of laymen in the same field. Each sect brings the doctrines of its opponents to the touchstone of reason, although soine of them shrink from applying reason to their own. In a discussion on points of Scriptural doctrine, between laymen and religious teachers, the latter are prone to charge the former with infidelity, as the short answer to all objections; and the religious world too often makes common cause with the teachers, in giving effect to the accusation. But when the clergy of one sect contend with those of another, their religious characters protect them against this brief method of dealing with their arguments, and the subject must be treated on its merits. By this means, truth is advanced, and th ology and reason are brought more and more into harmony. If a layman, for instance, had attacked the Calvinistic doctrine of Elec.ion, he would probably have been at once denounced as an infidel. But when the Rev. John We-ley, himse f a high authority in religion, in commenting on the Rev. James Hervey's advocacy of this doctrine in his "Theron and Aspasia," says, But what becomes of other people? (that is, besi les the Elect), they must inevitably perish for ever? The die was cast ere even they were in being. The doctrine to pass them by, has

Consigned their unborn souls to hell,

institution to be tolerated in any free state? Yet,
such is the institution which the non-intrusionists
are trying to set up, and of this institution they
say that Christ is the head. I deny the assertion.
I consider it an assertion borde.ing upon blas-
phemy; an assertion throwing a stain, a foul and
injurious stain, upon the great name by which
we are called. The head of the Church of Scot-
land! Christ is the head of his own mystical
body, the foundation and chief corner-stone of
that spiritual living temple which is composed of
all Christian men in all parts of the word; but I
have yet to learn that the Church of Scotland,
either as it has existed hitherto, or as it would
exist, provided the non-intrusionists had their
will-I say, I have yet to learn that the Church
of Scotland and this living temple are one and
the same thing. I grant, indeed, that there is a
sense in which Christ may be said to be the head
of the Church of Scotland; but that is just as he
is the head of the Church of England, just as he
is the head of the Church of Rome; and just as
he is the head of any other existing society, or
any other portion of human beings-as the head,
for instance of the British empire, or the empire
of the Chinese. I will grant that there is a sense
in which Christ orders the concerns of the Church
of Scotland, and in which he superintends all
their affairs, great and small; but that is exactly
as he superintends the affairs of the French, or
the affairs of their friend Meh met Ali." Such
arguments as these, proceeding from religious
men and directed against the doctrines of religious
men, open up the understandings of the people,
and give them courage to think; and by them
theology is advanced.

Fear not evil, then, from the multitude and
conflicts of your secis.

shall stand forth before an admiring world. The must be the ultimate effect of free discussin if man be really a rational and moral being; and, however distant the prospect, it is still disceme by the eye of reason and of faith.

If suca be the probable result to which your religious discussions will lead, Phrenology's serve as a beacon light to guide you on your way, The starting point of innumerable religiof ferences lies in different views entertained ES gard to the nature of man: Phrenology will e tle this point beyond the possibility of controves. While every individual takes his own conscinsness and observations as the standards by which he measures human dispositions and caparis, metaphysical divines may assign or deny human mind whatever moral and intelle qualities best suit their several religious opinos, but when the faculties are studied in connecte with organs, this becomes impossible. Orga are visible and tangible, and owe their existe directly to God. The mental qualities, then fore, attached to them, are all equally the dine gifts of the Creator; and be they what they may, they are His workmanship. Hitherto, S has generally been interpreted without the knowledge of the organs and of their influence on the mental manifestations; and it appears to me fat, when this knowledge becomes general, an popular interpretations will not bear investigate. Again, Phrenology shows us that, to improve the human mind, we must begin by improving the condition of the brain; and that, to athan success in this object, all moral, religions, and intellectual teaching must be conducted in hamony with the laws of physiology. Whit however, it foretells of changes in the interpre tions of Scripture, and in religious opinions, Many of them reject the authority of reason affords us a guaranty for the safety, the perm when applied to themselves, but they all use it nence, and the ever-extending power of religer to expose and refute the errors of their opponents; itself, sufficient to assure the most timid. It and by this constant appeal t› reason, I anticipate brings b fore our eyes, organs specially desired the ultimate purification of Christian doctrine, to the manifestations of religious sentimers A and the increasing approximation of all sects to- thereby shows us that religion itself is 12** wards unanimity. There is one God, and one in our nature, and that it is as enduring th truth, and no interpretations of Scripture can be race. It enables us to compare our men sound, or secure of universal acceptance and per- ture, such as God has constituted it, with Again, when the Church of Scotland, claiming manent existence, which contradict reason or precepts of Jesus, and shows us the most th Christ as its only head, asserted, that in contend- clash with natural science. Scripture may legi- mirable harmony between them. It fore ing for its own power and privileges with the timately go beyond what reason can reach, as in demonstrates that great differences exist in fi supreme civl court of the country, it was only teaching the resurrection of the dead, but no relative strength of the faculties in different defen ling the " Redeemer's crown rights," any sound interpretations of it can evolve doctrines viduals, and leads us to infer that many or layman who should have stigmatised this as an that distinctly contradict natural truth. The pro-religious differences are referable to this eu act of unwarrantable and irreverend assumption, cess of improvement appears to me to be evidently each of us being impressed most forcibly by h would probably have been accused of infidelity; begun. A large portion of your Presbyterian texts of Scripture which speak most strongly r and the religious portion of the community would Church has dropt some of the peculiar doctrines his own predominant faculties. have given effect to the charge; but when the of Calvinism, and even Yale College has modi- fore, it foretells the dissolution of many do Rev. And. Marshall of Kirkintulloch, a speaker fied the ancient views of original sin. These are tical opinions, which at present put eninity and at a great meeting of Evangelical Dissenters, held steps, however small, by which the professors of strife between Christian sects, it presents the in Edinburgh on the 16th December, 1840, used Calvinism are approaching towards the opinions strongest confirmation of the great truths shout the following words, the religious public could of those who adopt Universal sm and Unita- which all are agreed, and gives, if possible, s not treat them thus, but must have pond-red then rianism. Be not alarmed; it is not my intention enlarged prominence and importance to be in well and answered them in reason. The system to express an opinion in favour of the superiority fluence which, when freed from heterogenes of non-intrusion, said he, is an attempt to set of any sect; this does not become a stranger, and errors, these are destined to exercise over hom up an institution (the Church of Scotland) in the one whose element is philosophy; but as a phi- civilisation.* name of Christ which Christ never sanctioned-losophical observer, I beg leave to state my con- One great obstacle to your moral, religions an institution breathing a spirit and clothed with viction that the progress which Christianity is and intellectual progress appears to me to be " a character which the religion of Christ utterly destined to make in your country, is one of ap-influence which the history, institutions, mannem disowns-an institution calling itself national, proximation to unity in belief; that, in proportion habits, and opinions of Europe are still exercis and claiming a large portion of the national pro- as the knowledge of mental philosophy and phy- over the minds of your people. Study thes perty-an institution claiming a right to dispose sical science is extended among your people, order to imbibe their wisdom and to adopt of the national property, the national honours, your sects will drop one doctrine after another, refinement; but avoid the errors which they and the national emolumen's: vet at the same as it is discovered to clash with reason and natime refusing to be controlled by the national tural truth, and that they will elicit purer, and authority, and setting at defiance all laws but its sounder, and more practically useful doctrines in Is this a Christian institution? Is this an their place; until truth, commanding unanimity,

And damned them from their mother's womb.' I could sooner be a Turk, a Deist-yea, an Athist, than I could believe this; it is less absurd to deny the very being of God, than to make hin an Al ghty tyrant;"-when a religious min writes thus, he must be answered in reason, and in Sripture reconcilable with reason.

own.

I have discussed this topic more fully lectures on Moral Philosophy, to which I beg kan to refer.

THE STORY OF MANDRIN, THE SMUG

GLER CAPTAIN.

In the public records of Montbrison, a town in the south of France, near the banks of the Rhone, there is a most remarkable document, which has as remarkable a history. The paper is brief; it is a receipt, and originated in the following cir

cumstances.

in my transactions. What! I compromise the
creant of an honest receiver? Nothing is far.her
from my thoughts. I am all for right and jus-
tice, and that is the reason that I usually travel
with a few musqueteers about me; for you know,
my dear Mr. Financier, it requires a certain de-
gree of energy in this world of ours to make
equity triumphant. But we'll talk of business
alterwards; let us first sup. Where are the
ladies! Oh! they have concealed themselves, I
What nonsense! They told me that
Madame Palmaroux is musical; I shall be en-
chanted to hear her. One of the disagreeable
features of my profession is the deprivation of
music. You would scarcely believe, my dear
Palmaroux, how much I miss it. Your good
lady"—

About the middle of the eighteenth century, or, to be more pointed, in the year 1761, Man-wager. drin, the famous brigand, presented himself at the gates of Montbrison. He was accompanied by such a force, that no one dreamed of offering the slightes. resistance. He took possession of the place in the same manner as the Duke of Nemours had done in the sixteenth century; but | with this difference in favour of the brigand, that the latter exacted not one coin from the inhabit ants, and caused a rigorous discipline to be observed by his band. One of them, who ventured to appropriate an article of the most trI fling value, was publicly punished in the market place.

After making various dispositions for security of his own safely and that of his men during their stay, and for relieving the inhabitants from fear, Louis Mandrin, elegantly attired in a rich court habit, according t the accounts of the old people of the place, betook himself, accompanied by two of his men in the dress of lacqueys, to the house of M. Palmaroux, receiver of taxes for the district. He entered with the greatest coolness into the dwelling in question, but at the same time with the urbanity of deportment which he knew well how to assume, and by which he took a pride in distinguishing himself from the vulgar bandits of the day.

gatherer."

66

Pray, do not make a noise, M. Palmaroux," said Mandrin; "that would be imprudent; and do not be alarmed. You judge by report; it is wrong to do so. The only way to acquire a knowledge of people is to see them close at hand; and that is precisely the advantage which I meant to give you in coming thus to treat with you, glass in hand.”

"Treat with me!" cried M. Palmaroux; "I do not comprehend what kind of relations there can be between you and me."

The financier did not speak the exact truth here; for a certain tremulousness in his voice. and nervous agitation in his limbs, indicated that he had made a good guess at the business hinted at by his visiter. Mandrin did not allow him at any rate to remain long in the dark.

"Oh!" said the brigand, "our treaty is not one that requires any discussion. It is a simple matter; conclude and sign!' You will find

Certainly, sir," stammered out the receiver;
but I fear-1 fear my wife is indisposed"-
"To see me?" interrupted the bandit in his
Oh these confounded reputations! But
would soon reassure your lady."

turn.

..

In fine, with not the best grace in the world, M. Palmaroux was necessitated to make his wife appear. Madame Pa.maroux was a woman; and though she could not enter the presence of the famous brigand without fear and trembling, yet she took the precaution to appear as well dressed as possible, reasoning with herself probably in soine such way as this. "Though one cannot help being frightened for a robber, it is needless making one's self a fright for all that." The supper was announced. Mandrin presented to Madame Palmaroux a very white hand, decorated with a variety of costly rings. In the supper-room, the brigand kept his two pretended lacqueys behind his chair. During the repast, the conversation was light and animating. The visiter of the receiver chatted of the court, theatres, romances, and Madame Pompadour, and dropt not a word regarding the motive of his visit. But, at the dessert, he changed the conversation so markedly, that madame foresaw what was coming. Her husband begged her to retire, but she requested to remain, imagining that the man who chatted so gaily with her would be accessible to her influence in the business about to be transacted. But she soon found that Mandrin had two characters, and that there were points on which he made no concessions.

Well," said Mandrin, swallowing a final glass of champagne, let us finish our business. How much, Mr. Receiver, have we in our treasury ?""

66

"Ah! very little, M. Mandrin," said Palmaroux; the people will not pay. They lock their chests against us, and beat our collectors." "Ah! that is very ill done, indeed," said the bandit; "but let us not lose time. How much have we exactly?"

66

Perhaps from seven to eight hundred livres, more or less," answered the receiver-general.

"Take care what you say, my dear M. Palmaroux," said Mandrin, "you know that accuracy is every thing in financial matters. And don't imagine that I come to you as a spoliator. By no means; I am not one of those rude sort of fellows. I intend to put into your coffer. in place of money, a good and valid receipt; one much more regular, I shall be hold to say, than most of those you receive. You understand, it shall be a quittance, signed by me, and sealed with my signet, with a hundred and fifty muskets at niv back to give weight to the document. It will be a sterling receipt; every bank in the

Father Palmaroux, without more words,
sum have you on hand at present?"
Something in the brigand's manner led Fer
Palmaroux to delay no longer.
Upon my c
science, six thousand livres." At these war
Mandrin took from his pocket a scrap of paper,
and glancing at him, said, "Six thousan
hundred and ninety livres; that is tas
you have exactly. You see, my dear ra
we are pretty well informed. But seven had
livres is a small matter in the conscience da
receiver general."

The bandit then turned to one of his lacer attendants, and said Accompany Mr. Reg to his office, and get from him the sum dar thousand even hundred and ninety livres. Îs. know that I never touch money, it soils the gers; and, besides, it would be ungalla n leave the lady here alone. I have also the tance to write. I carry stamps always ab with me. Regularity in every thing, that is t

motto."

And, in truth, the brigand drew from s pocket a small book, containing proper sta with writing materials. Havi g first caree turned up a portion of the table-cloth to prevent any staining, he then wrote out a receipt in de following terms: I, the undersigned l Mandrin, have collected from the coffers of M. Palmaroux, receiver-general of taxes at M brison, the sum of six thousand seven hundra and ninety livres, taken against their will fre the people of the district; and declare the sal receiver duly freed of the said sum, and to e exempt from all recourse on the part of farmers general or their agents; in notification of whi I leave him the present receipt to serve as available and valid discharge. Lors MAS

DRIN."

After this exploit, Mandrin took a courtes leave of his host and hostess, and, soon after, the town of Montbrison. Though Me and Madame Palmaroux could not say me the pleasure resulting from the visit paida yet they afterwards spoke with wonder urbanity of the notorious robber.

After a life in which strange affectations of breeding, and even acts of direct genes were mingled with acts of violence and sp tion, chiefly in the department of smur Mandrin was taken, condemned, and broken fa the wheel. Sir Walter Scott, in alluding to comparative apathy which he himself felt

the first shock of his misfortunes was over, o pares his case with that of Mandrin, who, w undergoing his final punishment, declared: his dying breath that he felt no pain, the diss blows having so deadened his sensations, 25 render the rest productive of no suffering,

END OF PART I.

act scene in these plays, and after a few bars of mu-selves in the grasp of an earnest overinastering passion,
sic, Hermione entered. We had heard of an insig- following it, swayed by it, suffering under it. And
nificant figure, of ugly features, and forbidding ex- this, less by means of distinct and separate hits, than
pression: we saw a figure of extreme gracefulness, by their fusion into one unaltering figure of wayward
somewhat above the middle size: a face of small, love. Some of our cotemporaries have remarked on
but pleasing features, radiant with the beauty of in- her want of tenderness. It seemed to us that through
telligence and feeling; and such a form of head as the whole of her performance, there went trembling,
Phidias might have moulded. She was well re-like one flushed vein, the very soul of tenderness.
ceived, but without enthusiasm. The heavy influ-Yon saw it in the aggr vated bitterness of her de-
ence of Pyrrhus and Orestes had by no means de- sertion, as you had seen it in the softened triumph
serted the scene. She spoke the first four lines of of her possession; and the hate was but another form
the part, and it was as if a sudden burst of sunshine of the love. Mademoiselle Rachel's most finished
had cleared off a dense and dreary fog. The ease mastery of her art, appears in these opposite yet
and variety of modulation; the subdued but tho- combined expressions. Her contrasts are inimitable,
roughly conscious power; the sense of what was to and yet if we may connect such expressions with
bu done, and the knowledge of how to do it; were then, they seem to us to have a most complete pro-
made obvious at once, and in these four apparently portion, and the most harmonious sweetness. In all
unimportant lines.
that we had before seen of the modern tragic acting
of Fran e, this matter of contrast was conveyed in
sudden leaps. There, was measured solemnity;
here, convulsive boisterousness; and not the most
wooden plank to bridge over the chasm. It is not
the way with Rachel. She holds continually within
her heart the invisible central point of the character
she personates, and what we observe of its most
startling contrasts, fitful and various as they seem,
are but converging or diverging rays. When, in the
second act, she sent Orestes to force the answer of
Pyrrhus,

But some few words we must here interpose about the tragedy, to show what it was the actress had to do. We waive all remarks as to the want of classical truth, or of any remote likeness to it, in the entire conception. Four persons are on the scene, counting the confidants as nothing. There is Pyrrhus, the Epirot king, who has fallen in love with his captive, Andromache; there is Orestes, the Argive prince, who is in hot pursuit of the Pyrrhus abandoned Hermione; there is Andromache, who will not have Pyrrhus; and there is Hermione, who will not have Orestes. The scene never changes from an ante-chamber in the palace of Pyrrhus, and the time is comprised within a day, The action may be somewhat thus described. Orestes arrives at the palace under cover of an embassy from the associated Greeks, to demand the death of Hector's son at the hands of Pyrrhus, but in truth to renew his own pursuit of Hermione. Pyrrhus politely listens to his arguments, and requests him, with a charming courtesy, to carry back a flat refusal to the Greeks. The act closes with the entrance of Andromache, to whom her generous captor relates what he has said to Orestes, with the high-minded remark that she must now at once resolve to marry him, or he shall certainly be obliged to reconsider the whole matter. With the beginning of the second act, we have the griefs and threatenings of the deserted Hermione, and a sly recommendation from her confidant to "try Orestes." She grants him an interview, and, resolved to turn him to use for a last effort on PyrThus, sends him to the king as ambassador from herself, with the alternative of instant marriage or eternal separation. If he says nay to me, she intimates, I say yea to you. Meanwhile, Pyrrhus has been talked over by his confidant, and ends the second act with a pious resolution to wed his betrothed, and deliver up the child of Andromache. The despair of Orestes, and the happy triumph of Hermione, open the third act; but both are short-lived; for the act closes with some sensible remarks from the confidant of Andromache to that mourning lady, which leave is without a doubt that the widow will rather marry Pyrrhus, than sacrifice Hector's son. Terrible is the resolve of Hermione, as the fourth act opens, and reveals to us the nuptials of Pyrrhus and Andromache, to come off without delay. Orestes takes from her a terrible commission to slay this faithless king at the very altar, and the act ends with her own quiet and itter farewell to Pyrrhus, as perjurer and traitor. Alas! love has again returned as the fifth act begins, and a frightful deed is doing. Rage repossesses her as she supposes the deed not done. Love, rage, and all the contending furies which make up despair, drive her to madness on the entrance of Orestes, stained with the blood of Pyrrhus. She spurns the murderer from her, and rushes out to stab herself upon the body of the king. Then the real furies, who have considerately let Orestes alone during the him, and the curtain falls as he sinks exhausted on whole play, renew their bewildering attentions to

the stage.

the triumph of Mademoiselle Rachel achieved; we Out of no more promising material than this was lost sight of all the absurdity as soon as she entered, and in the place of a game at cress purposes, in which sky grown-up children were all struggling to get at their lollypops, each before the other, we found our

"Je n'en puis partir

Que mon pere ou Pyrrhus ne m'en fassi sortir.
De la part de mon pere allez lui faire entendre,
Que l'ennemi des Grecs ne peut etre son gendre.
Du Troyen, ou de moi faites-l decider
Qu'il songe qui des deux il veut rendre ou gardre."
through all the loveliness of extreme apparent can-
dour with which the lines were given, there faltered
thrice on the very verge of disclosure, at the brief
words we have marked, that all-controlling emotion
which prompts and half extenuates the artifice.
When in the fourth act she bade farewell to Pyrrhus,
upon the light of every piercing sarcasm she uttered,
there fell the dark shadow of her suppressed agony
of soul.

"Est il juste, apres tout, qu'un conquerant s'absisse
Sous la servile loi de tenir sa promesse?
Non, non, la perfidie a de quoi vous tenter ;
Et vous ne me cherchez que pour vous en vanter.

Tout cela part d'un cœur toujours maitre de soi,
Dun heros qui n'est point esclave de sa foi."
When, at the very last, she asks about the look of
Pyrrhus at the altar,

"Son trouble avouait-il som infidelite?
A-t-il jus qu' a la fin soutenu sa fiertè,"
it was with that agony of outraged tenderness which,
at one relenting word, would have thought itself
strong enough to recall him from the grave. It is
needless to pursue these illustrations. The sante
harmony of art, pervaded every scene she appeared
in. No one separate passage was independent of the
rest. Nothing was laborious, nothing spiritless.
With a faultless precision and even minut ness of
detail. with an execution that never failed to realise
its purpose and tell upon the house in every distinct
effect, all was at the same time nuassed, combined,
contrasted, with that quiet and unobtrusive power
which belongs to the highest genius. Nothing was
driven into heroics, nothing sank into hysterics. In-
formed with feeling, modulated and made musical by
passion, the fine verses of the old French poet broky
through all the formal restraints of his school, burst
from their prison of measured pause and pointed an-
tithesis, and, as they came from the mouth of this
natural actress, swept into the broad, free path of
nature. There were its occasional abruptness and
inequality, its erratic wanderings, its swell and its
Fletcher, or Shakspeare, never sounded better.
decline, its resting pauses, its eager and fervent flow.

It is the fashion when much is conceded, to take
in the same breath a great deal away. So we se-
cretly reward ourselves for what we think great
stretches of generosity. Thus if a poet or an actor

happens to have one faculty in striking and unques-
tionable prominence, ten to one he is denied the pos-
session of another of equal significance. That
stronger Shakspeare felt for man alone,' was the
mistake of a poet himself, concerning a greater poet.
So we hear it said of an actor that he is great in this
passion, but very little in that; and of Mademoiselle
Rachel it seems to have been the fashion to say, that,
whereas in anger, hatred, she is overpowering; in
gentleness, pity, tenderness, love, she exhibits la.
mentable deficiency. In this there is a vast quantity
of nonsense. It is to be observed that the basis of
every kind of natural expression is the same, and
that, where no physical impediments exist, the same
sensibility which sugg sts one, will supply all. If
we were asked to say in what Mademoiselle Rachel
excelled, it would not be this or that particular feel-
ing of passion we should describe, but the impres
sion she conveyed to us of a thorough general under-
standing and mastery as an artist, of the various and
most contrasted elements of the art. It seems strange
to say this of one so young but such was our strong
impression. In the sudden and overwhelming use
of what are called 'points,' she has often been ex-
celled. Her voice fails her beyond a certain reach,
and there are other evidences, as in the occasional
trembling motion of her hands, of physical weakness.
But nature, and that in its most pleasing form, gains,
in a long run. She has fewer of these temptations
to excess, that have betrayed the finest actors.
might expect as great an effect from her as from
Pasta, when in Desdemona she shrank under the dag-
ger of Othello, but it certainly would not close, as
Pasta's did, in her tucking up her petticoats and
running for it. The just natural impulse goes hand
in hand with the clear controlling consciousness, and
to the very tempest and whirlwind contributes smooth-

ness.

She can so temper passion that our ears
Take pleasure in their pain.

You

We hope to have many opportunities of speaking of this inimitable actress, and have the less regret in being unable to occupy much more of our spare at present. Our book of Andromaque is so marked and scrawled throughout the part of Hermione, that a detailed description of the points which suggested the general view already given of her genius, would be something like a running comment on every other line. Some few things we must say, however; and first, of the first scene, that its quiet art revealed to us at once the whole power of the performance. The self-pity of the proud, hiding within itself to please its pride, was never more affectingly expressed

than on the words

"Est-ce la, dira-t'il, cette fiere Hermione? Elle me dedaignait ; au autre l' abandonne." From out the briefest words (fuis-le moi croire aussi) there broke a world of struggling love, sighs that had swollen from the heart, were turned off (He bien, ference. And when, having admitted to her confirien ne m'arrete) into careless affectations of indifdant that they ought to leave the palace, she abstractedly turned away and murmured to herself the lines tender self-deceit that was implied in it, the half-con"Mais si l'ingrat rentrait dans son devoir," &c., the scious self-hypocrisy, was consummately given. It struggle to think it so. was impossible that it could be real, with all that

In the scenes with Orestes it was more difficult to

give free play to natural expression yet she perfectly
succeeded. It was by still keeping in view what
that is difficulty was mastered. We have already
we have said of the secret springs of the character,
given une example of it. It was never after lost
sight of for an instant, when she had once, and al-
most in the same breath, given that fervent sigh to
the past (ses feux, que je croyais plus ardens que les
miens) and spread out the fatal toil for the future:

"Et quelque soit Pyrrhus
Hermione est sensible, Oreste à des vertus."
One saw poor fool Orestes already quivering in it.
The fourth act, in which she resolves the death of